


Keith Kogane, Amateur Necromancer

by BlazeFoxflame



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Klance if you squint, Langst, Necromancer Keith, Other, Pidge and Hunk are buddies, Platonic Relationships, Shiro is out in space, general audiences because it's not heavier than the actual voltron plot, lots of ghosts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 17:35:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11651418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeFoxflame/pseuds/BlazeFoxflame
Summary: Seventh rule of necromancy: a ghost cannot be returned to unconsciousness. Choose who you bring back wisely.-The focus is on the dynamic between Keith and Lance, but I have plans for interactions with both Hunk and Pidge.-Update schedule in the works!





	1. Chalk Dust

**Author's Note:**

> welp, until i figure out proper image encoding, here's a link to cover art that my lovely friend IwazillaCoffee did! https://instagram.com/p/BXOm0eLlA6W/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to write a fanfiction. Oops.  
> No guarantees on the frequency of updating, sorry!

Pacing had become a daily occurrence for Keith. The room he spent most of his time was small, dark, and cramped-- not something even the most reclusive person would enjoy. It certainly wasn't comfortable to be walking in. Comfort, however, was the last thing on Keith's mind. He would be comfortable when he knew what happened to his friend.

Takashi Shirogane (nicknamed "Shiro"), pilot of the mission to Kerberos, supposedly died in space. Those at the Garrison claimed it was due to an accident, a mishap, a fault in the ship. The three men on the mission were all declared dead after some time. Their families grieved, Keith included-- yet, even as he mourned his friend, Keith felt an unease in his gut. Something about the situation was off.

Shiro was an incredible pilot. He had been on what seemed like thousands of flight simulations before he could fly to Kerberos. He was at the top of his classes while studying at the Garrison. Keith knew that Shiro was the last person he would expect to crash on this kind of mission.

Something far more drastic than a simple piloting error must have happened. To find out what happened to his friend, however, was an impossible task... Or so he thought.

One night, several months after Shiro's supposed death, Keith went onto an online message board discussing grief and healthy coping mechanisms. It was there that he found many users with similar problems to his own. With a pang of sorrow, he recognized some of the words that they used as ones that had gone through his own mind. _Disbelief. Shock._

_"I can't believe they're gone. More than anything, I want to bring them back, so that I can say the things I never got a chance to before."_

Keith jolted ever so slightly as his eyes moved over the next part of the thread. It was an anonymous user, writing in small, purple text in response to the previous comment of wanting to bring back the dead.

 _"It may seem impossible. However, the quiet skill of necromancy is what you are seeking."_ They then listed a website that Keith, shaken, clicked on.

The next few weeks were spent doing extensive research on the matter. The sources on necromancy were few and far between, and they often provided contradicting information. Though he knew that it made him seem insane, Keith found himself printing out whatever articles he found, going through with a highlighter to unravel the secrets. From what he saw, necromancy was a legitimate practice-- but that could always just be the facade of the internet.

Keith nearly memorized the rules of practicing necromancy, but he kept notes close by at all times for safety's sake. He hardly interacted with another living soul, only doing so once to buy several sticks of white chalk, ideal for marking the floor in order to summon the ghost. From then on, he practiced smaller spells to strengthen his craft. It took about a month before he felt ready.

Despite his intimate knowledge of necromancy, a question still remained-- where would Shiro's ghost be? Keith assumed it would be the house they had once shared.

That, then, was where Keith stationed himself, bandanna over his lower face, cloak covering his body. That was where he drew up a circle, intricate patterns dictating the need for the ghost to return to the conscious world. That was where he waited, fingers brushing delicately over the chalked-out lines, wishing something would happen, wondering if he missed a step. As Keith looked over his notes, however, he knew he had done everything exactly as instructed.

The Garrison was the next place Keith could think of. After all, if it wasn't the Garrison that Shiro was haunting, it would be space-- and Keith couldn't fly himself out to space without getting in more trouble than he was already in.

Keith seated himself in one of the halls he had walked through most while he was still a Garrison student. It was too late at night for anyone to be walking through, especially considering it was one of the more hidden corridors, but Keith was still nervous. The circle he drew was more shaky and rushed, and the way he was breathing was causing his face under the bandanna to feel warmer. His business would have to be done quickly.

As he finished the circle, a shock of what felt like electricity coursed through Keith's body. He sat upright, pupils dilating to nearly nothing. The circle he had drawn glowed blue. A bright, translucent figure rose up out of the center, tall and foreboding. The ringing in Keith's ears was overwhelming, and he desperately hoped it wasn't the same for any Garrison employees. He blinked and eyed the apparition in awe. He'd done it! He'd brought back--

Keith squinted. That wasn't Shiro.

It was a younger man than Shiro, one about Keith's age. He was skinny, but well built overall. He was wearing a suit from the Garrison, and he was evidently a student, one Keith didn't at all recognize.

The ghost opened his eyes to reveal a gorgeous blue, stretching out his hand hesitantly and unfurling it, then proceeding to ball it back up into a fist. He raised his head to look at Keith, one eyebrow arching up.

He almost got a word of confusion out, but Keith barked defensively before the ghost could speak. "Who are you?" His voice was muffled, and he pulled down the bandanna.

The ghost narrowed his eyes and forced himself to grin, showing his immaculate teeth. "Lance McClain, cargo pilot. Who might you be," he said, eyes drifting over Keith's form, "mullet?"

Keith shifted his gaze to meet Lance square in the eyes. Dropping the chalk, he extended a gloved hand towards the ghost.

"Keith Kogane," he spoke, pausing slightly after his own name.

"Amateur necromancer."


	2. Tear-Stained Gloves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends were all requesting this, so I finally caved!

Lance’s palm fit snugly against Keith’s as the two shook hands, Keith’s gaze not leaving Lance for a second. Lance was cold to the touch, his hand airy, feeling like it would crumble to dust at any second. Contrary to what Keith would have expected from a ghost, Lance’s feet were solidly fixed to the ground like those of any other person. He was translucent, but he was also glowing a soft blue that complemented his eye color.

It was then that Lance broke the handshake to look at his surroundings. “So, uh, Keith. Care to explain why we are in the Galaxy Garrison, at approximately…” He squinted at the nearest clock. “1:00?”

Keith glowered slightly, crossing his arms and finally looking away from Lance’s eyes. “I was trying to find renowned pilot Takashi Shirogane. Surely you’d have heard what happened--”

“You were trying to bring Shiro back from the dead?!” Blurted out Lance, interrupting Keith and causing his scowl to grow. “Shiro, my inspiration in everything I do? So…” Lance’s shocked face grew to one of a frown as the weight of the situation fell upon him. “How’d you end up with me?”

“I don’t exactly know,” Keith snapped, turning to face Lance with fists clenched tight. “I did everything according to plan. I put over a month of research and practice into necromancy to learn how to find Shiro again. To think that after all this time-- that I’m far from knowing what the heck happened to him, the reason he left me behind--” one of his fists was unfurled, finding itself slapped over his face, hiding the fact that tears were welling up.

“Why do you have to be dead and… haunting this exact space?” Keith spat out, wiping his eyes with his hand instinctively. “My job would be a lot easier otherwise.” He moved his hand to examine the now tear-stained glove on it, still avoiding eye contact with Lance, who stood with his hands in his pockets.

“Look, man… I want myself to be dead just as much as you want me to be…” Lance looked uncomfortable as he went to the nearest bench. He sat slowly and unsurely, not even knowing if he would phase right through the seat. Once he knew he could sit properly as a ghost, Lance motioned for Keith to sit next to him. Keith did so, grudgingly. 

The two sat in silence for a while. Keith refused to look Lance in the eyes, and Lance continued to examine his surroundings, amazed to just be conscious again. Out of the corner of his vision, Keith could see Lance smiling ever so slightly as his head whipped around. Keith wished he could have such fond memories of the place, but he lacked the friends Lance must have always had.

Lance turned back to look at Keith again. “Listen, bud… Maybe Shiro.. Maybe he hasn’t passed away yet, and he’s out there…?” Lance’s proposition earned a snort from Keith.

“I already considered that. It’s part of the shock phase, of course,” Keith explained passively.

“No, I mean, maybe that’s why you weren’t able to, like, necromance his ghost. Considering how much you tried, you should have found him by now. That’s what you were saying yourself, right?” Keith caught Lance’s smile as he turned towards the ghost, mouth slightly agape.

He shook his head. _There’s more shock_ , he thought to himself, but even as he had the thought, Keith began to cling to the sliver of hope Lance had provided. “I… It’s not something I’ll let myself believe--!”

Before he could stutter out any more, Lance had the audacity to yawn. “Oof. Sorry. Well, apparently, ghosts get tired. Can I crash at your place, Keith? We can always talk about Shiro more, but, considering the time...”

“Yeah, sure. Let me clean up the chalk.” Keith was glad for the excuse to get moving.

As Keith kneeled to get his bearings, a light flickered on, far down the hallway. Lance noticed it and froze in his tracks, while Keith’s pupils dilated slightly. The echo of footsteps was unmistakable, especially paired with the golden gleam of flashlights.

“Garrison teachers…” muttered Keith quietly, fear lacing his words.

“Crap. We’re dead.” Lance whispered. “Well, one more of us is going to be, that is.” Keith nearly groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> -  
> I apologize for any angst feelies. Except I don't, because it's all part of my writing process.
> 
> Complain about how angsty my stories are: @cryptidge on instagram


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